


reflection

by lesbians_harold



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Post Season 3, listen im feeling a lot of thing rn and this is just the first of the batch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 11:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20096875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbians_harold/pseuds/lesbians_harold
Summary: Catra jolts awake with a gasp. She takes a shaky breath and breathes out. Her hand touches her cheek, the one Adora sucker-punched just a few days ago.It’s impossible to tell what time it is since there are no windows in her room. She glances at the digital clock on her nightstand. 6 am.She throws off her blanket and heads for the bathroom. Her steps are quick, determined.She turns on the faucet and fills her palms with the cold water, before splashing it on her face. She does this one more time, letting the faucet run to drown out the sound of Adora’s voice, still ringing in her ears.You made your choice.





	reflection

**Author's Note:**

> i am not okay after season 3. I AM NOT OKAY.  
anyway, have some angst ig.

_ I didn’t make you pull the switch. I didn’t make you do anything. _

_ You made your choice.  _

_ Now live with it. _

...

Catra jolts awake with a gasp. She takes a shaky breath and breathes out. Her hand touches her cheek, the one Adora sucker-punched just a few days ago.

It’s impossible to tell what time it is since there are no windows in her room. She glances at the digital clock on her nightstand. 6 am.

She throws off her blanket and heads for the bathroom. Her steps are quick, determined.

She turns on the faucet and fills her palms with the cold water, before splashing it on her face. She does this one more time, letting the faucet run to drown out the sound of Adora’s voice, still ringing in her ears.

_ You made your choice. _

She lifts her head to look in the mirror above the sink. The lamp above it shines a yellow light on her, making her look sick and dull. 

When was the last she’s had gotten a good night's sleep?

When was the last time she hadn’t awoken every couple hours, drenched in her own sweat, gasping for air, Adora’s voice in her head, Adora’s name on her tongue?

When was the last time she was happy?

She knows the answer to all of these, but just  _ thinking _ it, makes her heart ache.

She traces her face again, meeting her own gaze in the mirror. The dark rings under her eyes make them look hollowed out, like two black holes in the middle of her head. Her cheekbones are prominent, sharp - way too sharp for it to be healthy. 

When has she last eaten? It doesn’t matter.

The light flickers, and for a moment, her face cracks, half of it a gashing, black wound, a scar of light running across it. 

She whimpers and jumps away from the mirror, leaning against the cold tiles on the opposite wall.

When she looks in the mirror again, her face is normal, no black or white in sight.

Her lip quivers, and a tear rolls down her cheek. She swiftly dries it off.

Adora was right.

She made her choice.

…

_ You made me this.  _

_ You took everything from me. _

_ You broke the world, and it is all your fault. _

…

Adora jolts awake, panting and drenched in cold sweat. She takes a few, shaky breathes, before she gets out of her bed and heads for the bathroom. Once in there, she splashes water on her face with shaking hands. Some of it spills on her top, and around the sink.

She turns the faucet off and dries herself with a towel.

She glances in the mirror and sees her own reflection.

A vein runs red from her iris to the edge of her eye, a clear sign that she’s not getting enough sleep. Her bottom lip is cracked and dry from being chewed on all the time. A new, small scratch mark runs down her cheek and over her jawline.

She traces it with a single finger. It stings. She presses her finger against it. It hurts. She presses harder, making the healed tissue crack. It starts to bleed.

She looks at her finger, now tinted red with her own blood, before putting it in her mouth and licking it off. It’s bitter and metallic, but also comforting, somehow.

After all, she didn’t bleed in the other dimension.

And that’s it, isn’t it? Her biggest fear; she wakes up in the other dimension again, where Catra acts like everything is okay, like everything is  _ perfect _ .

She hates that word.  _ Perfect _ .

It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, just like the blood.

She scowls at herself in the mirror, and suddenly, she looks much older than she is.

There’s a deep crease between her brows when she furrows them, and it stays there when she relaxes. Her ponytail is messy, and loose strands of hair stick out and cling to her face.

Her cheeks are hollowed, and her eyes are red and puffy from crying herself to sleep.

The new wound oozes with blood, that runs down her neck and stains the hem of her shirt.

She looks far from perfect.

And, for the first time in her life, she doesn’t care.

**Author's Note:**

> oh, i also made a post s3-catradora [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1F4OZ0fJteWXX1Qlu7wYmc?si=tzVZCGUUTFOh4sVJ17TXnQ). enjoy the angst :)


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